


Six Senses of Grief

by idoltina



Series: Elizabeth Anderson [2]
Category: Glee
Genre: Blood, Character Death, Explicit Language, Grief/Mourning, Illnesses, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-19
Updated: 2011-04-19
Packaged: 2017-11-21 20:11:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/601624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/idoltina/pseuds/idoltina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are five senses, five stages of grief.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Six Senses of Grief

**Author's Note:**

> **Warnings (if any):** Mentions of character death, language

_So she'll leave me for the man I'll never be. She took all I had from beginning to end. But if I had another chance, I'd probably do it all again. Her name is always Elizabeth. She'll take your heart away and apologize for breaking it._

*****

**1\. Denial versus Touch**

_If I lay here, if I just lay here, would you lie with me and just forget the world?_

His parents had long since left the room, but Blaine remained sitting in his chair, still, silent, watching. A light flickered overhead. The soft ticking sounds of a clock drifted in from the hallway. But all of Blaine's senses were impervious. It was several moments before he could move at all. Slowly, he reached out a trembling hand, his eyes wide and wet. “Lizzie?” he said quietly. There was no response. His sister didn't speak, didn't move, didn't breathe. His fingers inched closer to hers. “Lizzie?” Kurt's hand found his shoulder, settled there tentatively. Blaine's breath caught in his throat as his fingers finally brushed over his twin's knuckles. “Lizzie,” he whispered. He turned his head slightly to address his husband. “She's cold,” he whimpered. Kurt's grip on his shoulder tightened. “She's so cold, Kurt. Here, feel --” He grabbed Kurt's hand from his shoulder and moved it to cover his own.

Kurt felt the icy chill of Elizabeth's body under Blaine's warmth and swallowed thickly. “I know,” he murmured. “Blaine, she... she's gone.” Every impulse in Kurt's body screamed at him to get up and run, to bolt from the room without a second glance. Every memory was too vivid, too real, too painful. The gold on his finger reflected off of Blaine's and his heart seized a little. As much as he wanted to run, he wanted to stay more. He gripped Blaine's hand a little tighter.

“She's not,” Blaine said, tears spilling from his eyes. “She's right here,” he insisted, his voice catching as he squeezed his eyes shut. “I can touch her, I can feel her --”

“Blaine,” Kurt said, fighting to keep his voice even. “Blaine, she can't feel you.” Blaine gripped Elizabeth's hand harder, his body trembling. “Blaine, there isn't anything you can do. She's gone.” Gently, Kurt pried Blaine's hand from his sister's and, together, they watched as Elizabeth's fingers fell back to the mattress with a mundane finality. A gasp escaped Blaine's chest and he reached out his hand again but Kurt pulled it back. “No, Blaine.”

Blaine's fingers twitched in Kurt's as he fought for Elizabeth's hand, his body shaking violently. “Kurt, please...”

Kurt's chest tightened a little. “She can't be here for you anymore, Blaine. She told you that, remember? You knew that. You know that.”

Blaine's eyes glossed over his sister's figure. “But I _need_ her, Kurt. She wouldn't leave me if she knew I needed her.”

Kurt's lips pursed as he took in Blaine's frame, pulling on his arm. “She didn't have a choice.” Blaine's shoulders dropped, his breathing uneven. “Blaine, come on. It's... It's not good for you to be here anymore. We should go home.” He rose, pulling Blaine with him, and, for a moment, Blaine seemed to comply. They made it as far as the door before Blaine stopped in his tracks and, before Kurt could stop him, spun and took three strides back over to his sister's bedside. Kurt watched, his eyes glossing over, as Blaine took Elizabeth's face in his hands, stared at her for a moment, and then leaned in to place a firm but gentle kiss on her forehead. Blaine let out a sob as his lips parted from her flesh and, before he could lose his nerve, he spun on his heel and made his way out of the room, his fingers blindly searching for Kurt's as he walked briskly.

Elizabeth's funeral took place within the week. Kurt offered his hand to Blaine as they made their way to leave the graveyard. As Blaine took it, he felt his flesh burn and, somewhere in the dull ache and shell he'd been living in for the last week, his heart started to beat again. Elizabeth lived on. And when they crossed the threshold into the Anderson household an hour later, Blaine, still holding onto Kurt's hand in a vice-like fashion, dragged his husband upstairs, closing the bedroom door behind them. His lips found Kurt's in a messy fashion, his fingers already working to undo the buttons on his own jacket. Kurt buzzed pleasantly against Blaine's lips but pulled away. “Blaine, no.”

“I'm not,” Blaine murmured in response, shrugging off his jacket, his lips trailing across Kurt's jaw. Kurt watched with curious eyes as Blaine's fingers worked, discarding jackets and shirts and shoes. It was then that Blaine stopped, closed his eyes, took in a breath. He reached for Kurt's hand and pulled it to his chest, letting pale fingers splay across it. “I just...”

Kurt ducked his head to look at Blaine's face. “What?” he prompted. “What do you want? What do you need?”

“I just need to _feel_ you,” Blaine breathed. “I need you here with me.” He stumbled backwards, settling onto the bed, unable to lift his head. Kurt surveyed his husband's sunken frame before stepping in front of him, using his hands to lift Blaine's head. Their lips crashed together, moving warmly as fingers traced against belts.

It was several moments before Kurt finally broke the kiss. Blaine stared up at him with clouded, desperate eyes. Kurt stepped around him and crawled onto the mattress behind him, settling himself against the pillows. He offered a hand to Blaine -- who took it -- and pulled him against his side, Blaine's cheek nestling into the crook between his shoulder and his chest. The fabric of slacks and socks tangled together with their legs and, after a moment, Blaine's hand made its way to Kurt's chest. “Your heart is beating,” he murmured quietly. “You're alive. You're _alive_.”

Kurt reciprocated the motion, rolling to hover over Blaine slightly. “So are you,” he reminded him, refusing to break eye contact.

Blaine's fingers wrapped around Kurt's hand, clenching tightly. He lifted his head, eyes closed, until their lips were a breath apart. “Please,” Kurt heard, air ghosting over his face, “please, just... Just _don't leave me_.”

Kurt's fingers brushed against Blaine's cheek, dragging down to his jawline. “I'm not going _anywhere_.”

*****

**2\. Anger versus Taste**

_Maybe I'm not up for being a victim of love when all my resistance will never be distance enough._

An unusually warm October evening settled over the city of Chicago, a stifling heat hanging in the small studio apartment they shared. A click greeted Blaine's eardrums as he lay sprawled on the couch, arm over his eyes. Kurt's voice flitted through the room. “I come bearing gifts.”

Blaine smiled as he felt Kurt kneel next to the couch. “A pool? You got me a pool.”

Kurt snorted. “Yeah, I got you a pool, one of those little kiddie ones. I was going to set it up in the kitchen.”

“It's hot,” Blaine groaned. “Can you blame me?”

“Shut up,” Kurt instructed, “and open your mouth. And get your mind out of the gutter.”

Blaine screwed up his mouth into a twisted smile but opened his mouth obediently. “Ice cream?” he asked hopefully.

“Close,” Kurt hummed. Plastic came in contact with Blaine's lips and smooth, creamy substance glided over his tongue. He let it linger there for a moment, his taste buds working furiously to identify what was in his mouth, before groaning, pushing the spoon away from his mouth. “What's wrong?” Kurt asked.

Blaine sat up, his eyes adjusting to the dim light in the room. “Disgusting,” he murmured, reaching for a napkin to blot his tongue with.

Kurt cocked an eyebrow. “I didn't realize you didn't like it. Or was it the wrong flavor?”

“Why?” Blaine started, his gaze flickering to Kurt, eyes flashing. “Why would you give me that? What on Earth possessed you?”

Kurt's jaw dropped open a little. “What's the matter with you? You've never said you were allergic or anything like that. I don't understand why you're so upset about this.”

Blaine rose from the couch and strode into the kitchen, reaching for a bottle of water as he continued his tirade. “Sick to my stomach -- didn't even realize... Not even two months, and after an entire summer full of that disgusting --”

“Blaine,” Kurt said thinly, standing at the threshold between rooms, “why are you upset with me?”

“Because you shouldn't have given me that!” Blaine seethed. “You should've realized, should've had the courtesy -- I mean, God, Kurt --”

“Should've realized what, exactly?” Kurt interrupted, his voice raising a little, a color rising to his cheeks. “What the hell is wrong with frozen yogurt?”

“This isn't about the goddamn frozen yogurt, Kurt!” Blaine's volume matched his husband's now.

“Then what is it about? Because I walked in the door and you were just fine, and the second I feed it you, you flip out on me!”

“I shouldn't have to explain this,” Blaine said, hands gripping the wooden edge of the kitchen island.

“Really?” Kurt shot back. “Really? You honestly think I'm going to let you get this mad at me without validation? You think I'm going to take this lying down? What is your problem?”

“God, Kurt!” Blaine squeezed his eyes shut in frustration and reached out for the nearest object he could find -- a porcelain plate -- before hurling it at the wall next to him. A resounding crash echoed through the apartment and a jagged edge came in contact with Blaine's palm. “Fuck,” he hissed quietly.

Kurt stood staring at him for a minute, breathless and pale. Red flooded his vision as blood poured down Blaine's palm, shaking Kurt out of his stupor. Silently, he walked into the bathroom and met Blaine at the island a moment later, pointing at the bar stool. “Sit,” he commanded. Chest heaving, Blaine settled onto the stool heavily, unwilling to meet Kurt's gaze. “Give me your hand,” Kurt instructed. When Blaine didn't comply, Kurt reached out for his hand and took it into his own, sifting through the first aid kit to his left. Kurt worked in silence, cleaning off Blaine's hand, thumb running over the wound across his palm. “I don't think you'll need stitches,” Kurt said after a minute, an edge to his voice.

Blaine fought to keep his body from shaking, adrenaline still coursing through his veins. His jaw squared and set, it was a few moments before he felt calmed enough to speak. “Strawberry was her favorite.”

Kurt's hand stilled over his, fingers ghosting over the line that marked Blaine's anger. Blaine watched as the tension melted from Kurt's shoulders. When Kurt spoke, his voice was quiet. “I'll ask, next time. When it's my turn to do the grocery shopping or prepare dinner, I'll ask.”

Blaine softened a little. “You shouldn't have to do that,” he said. _She shouldn't be dead._ “It's not fair.” _It's not fair that she's gone._

Kurt busied his hands, neither of them daring to look at each other. Soft gauze made its way around Blaine's hand over and over again, the circular motion dizzying Blaine's eyes a little. “I promised her,” Kurt murmured. “I promised her I'd be here for you. I'm not walking away just because you got upset with me over frozen yogurt. I'll adjust. I'll make it work until it's okay again.”

Kurt taped the gauze down and made to move his hand away but Blaine caught it with his own, thumb caressing fingertips, heat radiating from pores. Kurt's breath caught. “I thought it'd get easier,” Blaine admitted quietly. “With time, you know? I never expected to be this... angry about it.”

Kurt squeezed his hand, finally lifting his head to look at his husband. “It doesn't get easier,” he said gently. “But it gets... better? I'm not sure what the right word is. It'll always hurt. The pain will always be there. But, with time...” He exhaled. “You learn to function. You learn to live again. You learn that you waste the life you have by mourning the death of someone else. And she wouldn't want that, Blaine. Liz wouldn't want that. She wanted things to be better for you, remember?”

Blaine finally lifted his head and met Kurt's gaze. “She wanted me to be happy,” he affirmed softly. Kurt smiled a little, squeezing his hand in encouragement. “You make me happy,” he admitted. “You always have.”

Kurt shifted and hopped down off of his bar stool, moving to stand between Blaine's legs, his hand still settled warmly into Blaine's. “That's why I'm here,” he said. “I like making you happy.”

“You're too good to me,” Blaine groaned, his nose nuzzling Kurt's jaw. “I'm so lucky to have you.”

Kurt rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Honestly, what would you do without me?” Blaine's eyelashes fluttered against his cheek and Kurt leaned down to press his lips against Blaine's. When Kurt's tongue brushed over Blaine's, mint flooded Blaine's senses, driving the strawberry from memory. Blaine smiled into the kiss.

On the coffee table, two cups of frozen yogurt went untouched.

*****

**3\. Bargaining versus Sound**

_Slow down, you crazy child. You're so ambitious for a juvenile._

November rolled in, blustery and muted and orange. Blaine wore a scar on his forehead from the stitches he'd had a year ago. Two weeks before Thanksgiving, settled comfortably between Blaine's legs on the couch, Kurt toyed with a loose thread on Blaine's pants. “So I have an audition.”

“With your theater troupe?” Blaine asked, hands mussing through Kurt's hair.

Kurt shook his head. “It's for one of the choirs in the music department, actually. They're a lot like the Warblers, a capella.”

Blaine smiled. “Open auditions, or are they looking for a countertenor?” he asked cheekily.

Kurt swatted at his arm. “Open auditions, jerk. I may be fabulous but in a school with a student population of twenty-five thousand, I'm not stupid enough to think about being singled out, especially this early on. Give me time to earn my wings and all,” he teased, fighting back a smile at the metaphor.

Blaine rubbed his arms. “And you're nervous.”

Kurt sighed and placed an arm over his eyes. “I hate that you know me so well. I really, really hate it.”

“You don't,” Blaine countered. “You wouldn't have even mentioned it if you didn't want me to know, and I know you well enough to know when you're nervous. You don't want to be nervous. That's why you told me. I'm not going to judge you.”

Kurt smiled fondly, removing his arm and glancing back up at Blaine. “But you can.”

Blaine returned the smile. “I know,” he grinned. “You're going to be fine. Your voice... God, Kurt, I think you forget that your voice is part of the reason I fell in love with you.” Kurt filed that away and brought it to the forefront of his mind when he stood in a heated spotlight three days later. In the days leading up to the audition, Blaine found himself bargaining with whatever power he wasn't sure he believed in. _I'll be happy if Kurt gets this spot._

In another five days, Kurt walked through the apartment door in a stunned silence. Blaine glanced up from his place on the couch and smiled, patting the cushion next to him. “I take it they posted the list?” he inquired. Kurt nodded, slowly sinking into the seat next to Blaine. Blaine set his book down on the coffee table and reached over to take Kurt's hand. “And?”

“They want me,” Kurt said quietly.

Blaine's smile radiated a little brighter. “That's good, isn't it?” Kurt nodded but bit his lip. Blaine's brow furrowed a little in confusion. “But? What's the catch here?”

“The choir director,” Kurt started, his voice still so quiet that Blaine actually had to look at him to discern what he was saying. “She really liked me, said they haven't had such an impressive countertenor in years.” Blaine grinned. “But she... She wants me right away.”

“What's the problem with that?” Blaine puzzled. “You wouldn't have auditioned if you didn't think you could fit it into your schedule.”

Kurt finally brought himself to meet Blaine's eyes, fear filling every curve and line of his face. “Switzerland,” he breathed. “They're going to Switzerland to tour over Christmas. She wants me to go with them.”

Sometimes, Blaine forgot that he was an eighteen-year-old college freshman with a husband. Sometimes he forgot how much that cost. Most days, he didn't care. Today wasn't one of those days. He stared at his husband in disbelief and could practically feel him vanishing right before his eyes. “Is that --” He stopped, gathered himself, and cleared his throat. “Is that something you want?”

Kurt chewed his lip nervously. “I -- I'm not sure,” he admitted. “I've never really thought about it that much. It seems stupid to turn down, but...” He tapered off, glancing down at their clasped hands. Gold reflected off of their irises. “It's our first Christmas together,” he said quietly.

 _Not together_ , Blaine thought. _Married. It's our first Christmas married. It's our first Christmas without Lizzie._ “If you want it, you should go.” Blaine almost couldn't believe the words had come out of his mouth.

Apparently Kurt couldn't either. “You're sure?” he asked, studying Blaine's face for a betrayal. “I don't... I don't want to leave you here.”

Blaine nodded, but the bargaining began even as Kurt embraced him. _I'll do anything. I'll give up anything. I will give up my voice if he'll stay. I'll give up... I'll give up listening to hers._ But he kind of failed at holding up his end of the bargain, he realized. The disc sat in the boombox in the weeks leading up to Kurt's departure and, every time he was alone, Blaine's finger hit _play_. And, every time, he couldn't bring himself to sing along.

Blaine sat on the kitchen floor, his phone still against the floor between his legs, nursing a glass of wine -- a gift from his aunt. “Just don't tell your parents I've been buying you liquor,” she'd advised when she handed him the bottle. Kurt was boarding his plane by now. Blaine glanced up at the boombox across the room but couldn't muster up the strength to get to his feet, to hit _play_ for the thousandth time. It just hurt too much. He'd failed, and now he was being punished for it.

The door swung open and Blaine's head snapped up in surprise. “ _Kurt_ ,” he breathed. “What are you doing here? I thought --”

“I couldn't go,” Kurt said breathlessly, letting his duffel bag hit the floor heavily. He kicked the door shut carelessly behind him and fished in his coat pocket as he strode to the far side of the apartment. Blaine caught a glimpse of a small, plastic case, heard the definitive click of the CD player closing shut, heard Kurt's finger push _play_ this time. Kurt rejoined him in the kitchen, settling near Blaine's bended knees, prying the glass from his fingers and pushing the phone away. “I packed this by accident,” he said. “And I just... I had to come back. I had to stay.”

Elizabeth's voice started to fill the room, smooth and clear. “ _Slow down, you crazy child. You're so ambitious for a juvenile._ ”

Something caught in Blaine's throat and he struggled to speak. “I've listened to it nonstop for a few weeks,” he admitted quietly. “She left it for me when she went. The first six months she was gone, it was all I listened to.” Blaine hung his head, staring at the floor. “It's one of the only things I've got left,” he admitted sheepishly. “I couldn't- There was nothing I could do to make her stay and it... It just makes it feel like she's here.”

Kurt sidled closer to Blaine. “I forget, sometimes,” he owned, “that this is still so new to us. That we're adults now. That we're together and in this for the long haul and there's just so much more that we're expected to _deal_ with... I'm sorry I pushed that on you. I'm sorry I asked you to compromise when you shouldn't have to. I'm sorry I considered leaving you alone when you need me, when it's the last thing that either of us want.”

Blaine offered him a small smile. “You seem to be settling into this whole adulthood thing rather well,” he teased.

Kurt smiled, blushing, closing his eyes as his hand found Blaine's knee. Blaine's eyes shined as Kurt started to sing. “ _Slow down, you crazy child. Take the phone off the hook and disappear for awhile. It's alright, you can afford to lose a day or two._ ” He squeezed Blaine's knee, meeting his eyes expectantly.

Blaine breathed in, his hand covering Kurt's, and opened his mouth. “ _And you know that when the truth gets told, that you can get what you want or you can just get old. You're gonna kick off before you even get halfway through..._ ”

Kurt's voice joined his, a harmony ringing between them. “ _Why don't you realize, Vienna waits for you? When will you realize, Vienna waits for you?_ ”

The last few piano chords echoed across the apartment after their voices had faded. “I've missed your voice,” Kurt said wistfully. “You don't sing as much anymore.”

Color found its way to Blaine's face. “I sort of... made a promise. I'd have given anything for you to stay. I'd have give up my voice. Anything.”

Kurt cocked an eyebrow in amusement. “Made a promise to whom, exactly?”

Blaine shrugged. “I don't know,” he said, gesturing to the ceiling. “God? The universe? The fates? Myself? You? Lizzie?”

Kurt stared at him, long and hard, before scooting closer. “You can still listen to her voice,” Kurt said, nodding towards the boom box across the apartment. Blaine nodded, his breath catching as Kurt's warmth started to engulf him. “And you will never have to bargain or make compromises or anything of the sort,” he said, dropping his voice several octaves as his lips moved to Blaine's ear, “to hear mine.”

“If you ever leave --” Blaine breathed.

“I won't,” Kurt cut in, his voice flooding Blaine's eardrum with an edge.

“I know,” Blaine said. “But if you ever leave, even if it's just for a little while --” He turned his head so their foreheads were touching. “I'm always going to be waiting.”

*****

**4\. Depression versus Smell**

_Don't look back at this crumbling fool. Just take it all with my love, take it all with you._

“You're sick.”

“I'm not.”

“You _are_ ,” Kurt insisted. “You should see a doctor.”

“I've been hospitalized before,” Blaine reminded him. “And so have you. I'm fine. I've felt worse.”

“You should stay home, at least. Rest.” Kurt's nose crinkled in disapproval as Blaine shoved a notebook in his satchel.

“I can't. I've got three study group sessions before my exam on Thursday,” Blaine sighed. “Three more days of this and then we get to go back to Ohio for a week.”

“You're not even going to make it to your final if you don't rest, Blaine.”

“I don't have a choice,” Blaine said. “Don't look at me like that,” he said defensively when Kurt's brow furrowed. “If the situation were reversed, you'd be wearing yourself thin too. You'd be skin and bones.”

He coughed into his elbow and sniffed slightly. Kurt clucked impatiently and forced a small plastic cup into Blaine's hand. “Take this,” Kurt instructed. “Three hours. You can go study for three hours and then you're going to come home and get into bed.”

“I have to study,” Blaine whined.

“You can study in bed. Take that.”

Blaine rolled his eyes but swallowed obediently, smacking his lips in displeasure. “Disgusting.”

“Most medication is,” Kurt snapped. He kissed the top of Blaine's head and moved across the room, gingerly picking up tissues between his index finger and thumb, tossing them into the wastebasket in disgust. Blaine heaved his satchel over his shoulder and made his way towards the door. Kurt picked up a can of scented disinfectant and started to spray every surface within reach. Blaine inhaled and, for the first time in a week, was able to smell properly. A clean, floral scent permeated his nostrils and a familiar buzz developed in his sinuses.

“Kurt, what is that?” he asked.

“Disinfectant,” Kurt said. “Haven't you noticed me following you around with it for the last week? Just because I only now confronted you about being sick doesn't mean --”

“No,” Blaine said, shaking his head. “I mean what is that scent?”

Kurt surveyed the can for a moment. “Something floral. Don't trust Lysol to tell you exactly what's in it, but there's something reminiscent of cherry blossoms and maybe some jasmine --”

“Jasmine?” Blaine parroted. “Is that what that is?”

“Yes, I think so, but -- Blaine? Blaine, what --” Blaine dropped his satchel to the ground and stumbled into the bathroom, his fingers barely gripping the edge of the toilet seat before he vomited into it. His knees hit the tile with a loud _thud_. Kurt stared at him in disbelief, his eyes wide, before setting the can on the counter and kneeling down next to Blaine. He reached out a hand to rub up and down Blaine's back and sighed. “You're sicker than I thought.”

Blaine shook his head, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as he fell away from the toilet. “No,” he gasped, “it's not... it's not that.”

“Blaine,” Kurt said sternly. “Look at you. You're a mess. You're shaking. You are _sick_. And you are staying home.”

Blaine closed his eyes in resignation but raised a trembling finger to point at the can on the counter. “Can you... Can you not use that again? Please?” He raised wide, pleading eyes to Kurt, his body weakened and sore against the bathtub.

Kurt nodded, surveying Blaine suspiciously. “Is -- Is this about Liz, Blaine?” he asked tentatively.

Blaine raised his eyes to the ceiling and Kurt expected tears, but none came. “At Christmas,” he started, reaching for Kurt's hand, “she had this special perfume she'd wear and it smelled... It smelled so much like that, floral and full of jasmine.” Kurt's thumb rubbed over Blaine's hand absentmindedly. The room was silent except for Blaine's labored breathing. “Why does this hurt so much?” he whispered up at the ceiling. Kurt bit his lip, scooting closer. “I'm tired,” Blaine said suddenly. “I'm so, so tired. I just... I'm tired all the time, Kurt. I'm tired and I'm sick and I miss Lizzie and I just... I just want to disappear.” Blaine's face stayed dry but Kurt's didn't; tears fell from his eyes and hit Blaine's face as he hovered over him, hoisting his legs to straddle Blaine's lap. Blaine's eyes found Kurt easily but didn't widen, hardly fought. “Kurt, don't. You'll get sick.”

“I don't care,” Kurt breathed, pressing his lips to Blaine's. His hands found Blaine's face and he felt Blaine's hands come to rest on his hips, his lips moving slowly, tiredly. “Stay with me tonight,” Kurt pleaded. “You can start studying on your own tomorrow and I'll even help you, but just... Just stay.”

Blaine kept his eyes closed, nuzzled Kurt's neck with his nose. “You'll take care of me?” he asked.

“That's a stupid question,” Kurt chastised, tears dripping from the edge of his nose.

Blaine opened his eyes, his thumb caressing Kurt's cheekbone. “Hey,” he said softly. “Hey, what's wrong?” Kurt shook his head. “No, hey, c'mon, tell me.”

“I just...” Kurt breathed in loudly, trying to stem his tears. “I've been where you are. I know how this feels. After I lost my mom, I got to this place where I just felt... empty. Isolated. Non-existent.” Blaine's eyes remained fixated on Kurt's face, his hand settled on the small of Kurt's back. “You don't feel like a person anymore, do you?” Kurt whispered, his eyes meeting Blaine's, the blue brighter and more brilliant than Blaine had ever seen them.

“Am I?” Blaine asked timidly, his voice matching Kurt's. “It's worse, I think. She wasn't just family. She wasn't just my sister. She was my twin. She... She _was_ a part of me. And I just... I don't feel like I have a right to exist without her anymore. She didn't get that chance; why should I?”

Kurt gasped a little, clutched at the back of Blaine's neck a little tighter. “You _are_ a person, Blaine. You're a completely separate person from her. She -- didn't you ever realize that, when she left, when she was in Switzerland for two years? You had to spend all of that time apart and you figured out who you were without her.”

Blaine tucked his shoulders in, leaning towards Kurt. “I don't want to forget her.”

“You won't,” Kurt promised. “I swear you won't. You couldn't.”

Blaine leaned his head against Kurt's chest. “I'm tired. God, I'm _so_ tired.” Kurt leaned back, pulling Blaine to his feet and leading him back into the bedroom. He settled Blaine onto the bed and sifted through the dresser, handing flannel pajama bottoms and a thermal to his husband. Blaine changed, not without difficulty, and allowed Kurt to push him against pillows and beneath covers.

“Sleep,” Kurt said quietly. “And when you wake up, I'll have chicken soup and tea and _It's a Wonderful Life_ waiting for you.”

Blaine's lids fluttered heavily. “I'm taking advantage of you,” he said miserably. “I'm such a mess. God, I'm a wreck.”

Kurt planted a kiss on his forehead. “You're Blaine,” he insisted. “You're Blaine and you're mine and that's all there is to it.”

Kurt moved to leave but Blaine grasped at his hand fitfully, moaning a little. “Stay,” he begged. “Stay with me, please?”

Kurt climbed in without hesitation, curling his body next to Blaine's, cradling his husband's head against his chest. They laid there in silence for a long while, Blaine's breathing starting to even as he inched closer to sleep, before Kurt's throat started to vibrate against the top of Blaine's head. “ _Slow it down and bring it home. I will adjust. If you only knew, everything I do is for you._ ”

Blaine hummed pleasantly, inhaled and caught a whiff of Kurt's cologne, and, smiling, finally drifted into sleep.

*****

**5\. Acceptance versus Sight**

_Life and a soul, do you ever get lonely? I'm gonna take you on. Found a way to understand the things I'm learning._

The sun shone brightly through the bare trees but a chill nipped the air; Blaine pulled his scarf a little tighter around his neck. “Do you always spend spring break like this?”

Kurt pursed his lips as a gust of wind swept up from behind them; he followed Blaine's example and adjusted the scarf around his neck. “Can you think of a better time to come back to Ohio?” he reasoned.

“Tons,” Blaine chided. “Summer. Thanksgiving. Christmas. We could be spending spring break in California or Cabo, you know, where it's warm --”

“You said you'd do me this favor,” Kurt reminded him as they clambered out of the car. He moved to the front of the car and stood waiting, his hand outstretched. With a small smile, Blaine took his hand and, together, they made their way across the grass. They walked, Kurt leading, over six columns, back tens and tens of rows. Gray blurred Blaine's vision but Kurt knew the way and, after ten minutes or so in silence, stopped at their destination. Kneeling, Kurt placed an assortment of flowers on the ground. “Hi, Mom.”

Blaine swallowed, shifting his weight from one leg to the other. He remained standing as Kurt murmured softly, his shoulders far less rigid than normal. After a moment or two, Kurt turned and gestured to Blaine. “This is Blaine. He's my husband, Mom.”

Kurt offered his hand up again and Blaine took it, kneeling next to Kurt. Kurt's finger traced the gold on Blaine's. Kurt smiled, and Blaine breathed a little easier. “I'm sorry I haven't been here with you before now,” he said to Kurt.

“You're here now,” Kurt said quietly. “I'm sorry you don't get to really meet her.”

Blaine leaned, resting his head against Kurt's shoulder. “Do you always do this when you come? Talk to her?”

Kurt nodded. “It helps,” he insisted. “She can't answer but I still feel like she's listening.” Blaine's thumb caressed the top side of Kurt's hand and Kurt moved, resting his forehead against Blaine's. “Thank you for coming with me,” he whispered.

Blaine didn't speak, choosing instead to respond with his lips against Kurt's, moving his free hand to cup Kurt's jaw. When they broke apart, Kurt was a little breathless. His gaze flickered past the site in front of him but Blaine kept his gaze fixated on Kurt's face. “She's ten rows back,” Kurt said tentatively. “Do you... Do you want to see her?”

Blaine closed his eyes and swallowed thickly. “I don't know if I'm ready for that,” he admitted, his voice shaking.

“I think you are,” Kurt said quietly. “We don't have to go if you don't want to but I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere.”

A breath escaped Blaine and covered Kurt's face. “Take me now,” he said, “before I change my mind.” Kurt pulled Blaine to his feet and, hands clenched together tightly, maneuvered across the graveyard again.

“Look,” he heard Kurt's voice urge gently.

Drawing in a breath, Blaine opened his eyes, and, for the first time in seven months, glanced at his sister's grave. Kurt's hand found his shoulder and squeezed, and Blaine sank to his knees. His chest heaved as his breathing quickened, his eyes growing clouded and glossy. “Hey, Lizzie.” He felt Kurt kneel next to him, his head nestling into his shoulder. The sun caught Blaine's irises and tears brimmed over his eyelashes. He lost focus. “I -- I miss you,” he stammered. Kurt made a slight buzzing noise in agreement as his hand found Blaine's knee. “Kurt's keeping his promise.” Kurt smiled, nose nudging affectionately against Blaine's ear.

Unable to say much more, Blaine reached out a trembling hand, letting his fingers trace the letters on the headstone: _Elizabeth Anderson_. As his skin came into contact with the rough granite, the letters came into clearer view as his vision focused, and he gasped slightly. “ _Oh_.”

“Blaine?”

“She -- she's really gone, isn't she?” Blaine said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Kurt's face flooded with empathy. “I've waited seven months to hear you say that,” he confessed quietly. Blaine choked out a sob as the tears finally spilled onto his cheeks, his hand withdrawing from the tombstone violently. “Blaine,” Kurt soothed. Blaine turned, falling into Kurt's embrace, his eyes buried into Kurt's shoulder, his fingers gripping Kurt's arm harder than they ever had before. Kurt let his arms engulf Elizabeth's twin, his hands running up and down his back.

When Blaine's sobs tapered off and his body rested calmly in Kurt's embrace, he spoke. “I don't... I didn't bring anything for her,” Blaine mumbled into Kurt's shoulder. “I don't have any flowers for her.”

Kurt rubbed at Blaine's neck one last time before pulling back, rising to his feet. Blaine watched as Kurt retraced their steps, ten rows, and plucked a flower from the assortment on the ground. When he made his way back, he offered it to Blaine as he knelt to the ground again. Blaine brought the flower to his nose, inhaled, and grimaced as his stomach quivered. Swallowing, he leaned forward and placed the flower on top of the head stone.

Blaine turned from Elizabeth to Kurt, his resolve a little stronger. “C'mere,” he mumbled, pulling Kurt to him, his hand cradled on the back of his neck. Their lips met, chastely at first, again and again and the thread between them burned a little brighter. It was Kurt who broke the kiss, rather reluctantly and a little breathless.

“Two years,” he said airily. “You kissed me for the first time two years ago, today.”

Blaine smiled, his lips finding Kurt's again briefly. “Lizzie was still alive then. She was still alive this time last year.” Kurt bit his lip in anticipation but Blaine's thumb caressed his cheek soothingly. “You came to me at the right time,” he insisted. “You walked down those stairs and into my life because she was going to leave it.”

Kurt smiled and pressed his lips to Blaine's once more before pushing himself off of his knees to stand. He offered Blaine his hand again and, as Blaine took it to rise, a familiar warmth and burn fused between them. And as they walked back toward the car, Blaine left his twin behind.

*****

**6\. Fear versus Subconscious**

_When we were children we'd play out in the streets just dipped in fate. When we were children we'd say that we don't know the meaning of fear._

A flash of brightest red, a blood curdling scream, a hand slipping from his grasp...

Blaine awoke with a gasp, a stitch in his chest, his shirt drenched in sweat. His chest heaved as he struggled to breathe, his eyes adjusting to the darkness. Shaking slightly, he glanced down and saw Kurt's pale skin glowing precariously next to him while he slept. After a moment, Blaine shifted, crawling out from underneath sheets and a duvet before shuffling out of the bedroom.

Kurt awoke a good forty-five minutes later, reaching his arm out blindly to curl around Blaine's torso. When his palm collided with the flat mattress for the fifth time, he opened his eyes, blinking in confusion. He sat up, rubbing his eyes, and vaguely made out a dim light peeking through the door across the hall. Kurt made his way to the room and walked up behind a sitting Blaine. After a glance at the book opened across Blaine's lap, Kurt moved his hands to Blaine's shoulders, massaging them gently.

Their honesty policy kicked in full force. “I've been having night terrors,” Blaine admitted immediately, the phrase falling from his lips rather haphazardly. Kurt's fingers tensed on Blaine's shoulders. “Nightmares. I -- I can't stop thinking about her,” he said, his gaze falling to the book below him. His fingers traced a faded photograph of Elizabeth. “She... She's in so much pain, she's screaming and crying out and just _begging_ for me to help her and I _can't_ , she keeps slipping away. There's nothing I can do for her.”

“Blaine,” Kurt said quietly, “your sister's been dead for ten years.”

Blaine raised a hand to his temple, his fingers squeezing at the sides. “I know that. I...”

Kurt kissed the back of Blaine's head. “She's not in pain anymore.”

“I know,” Blaine repeated.

“So what brought this on?” Kurt fished. “Why now?”

Blaine dropped his hand, lifting his gaze to stare across the room. “Lucy,” he breathed.

Kurt moved to kneel in front of Blaine, placing a hand on his knee. “Blaine, Lucy's fine.”

“I know,” Blaine repeated for a third time. “It's just...”

Kurt rubbed his knee affectionately. “Tell me,” he coerced.

“She's the first woman we've had in our lives since Lizzie, really. I mean, there's Mercedes and Rachel and Carole and everyone else, but --”

“I understand what you're getting at,” Kurt supplied. “I thought this was what you wanted.”

“No, it is,” Blaine assured, backpedaling. “I did want it. I do, still. I don't regret it. I just...” Blaine looked moved his gaze from the far side of the room back to the book in his lap, his fingers ghosting over his sister's picture again. “I'm scared,” he admitted quietly.

“Of what, being a parent? Fatherhood?” Kurt teased lightly. “That's normal.”

Blaine kept his eyes trained on the photograph in front of him. “What if I fail her?”

“You won't,” Kurt enthused. “We're going to make mistakes. We're not always going to get it right. But we're going to do the best we can and that is the most we can hope for.”

Blaine shook his head. “No, Kurt, you don't understand. Lizzie, she... She spent so much of her life feeling like she failed me. And it wasn't until I was about to marry you that she confessed that to me. And it -- it killed me, Kurt. I hated that she thought that.”

Kurt nodded, resting his chin on Blaine's knees. “I know. She... Liz put so much faith in me, Blaine. She trusted me with you. As long as I was there for you, she felt like she hadn't failed.”

Blaine let out a shaky breath. “So this isn't your normal worrying about being a failure as a parent kind of thing, is it?”

Kurt shook his head. “No, but it comes with the territory, I think. You have every right to feel the way you do, Blaine.” Blaine smiled and Kurt reciprocated, leaning up to plant a buzzing kiss on Blaine's lips. “Here,” Kurt said, reaching for his lap. “Give me this,” he said, taking the book from Blaine's lap and setting it on the bookshelf next to them. He rose to his feet and crossed the room, bending over the crib and gently lifting the baby, cradling her to his chest in an attempt to keep her asleep. “Lucy Elizabeth,” he cooed, fingers playing with the soft curls on their daughter's head. “Let's go see Daddy, okay?” Kurt crossed the room again, shifting her from his embrace into Blaine's. She stirred slightly, her hand curling around Blaine's index finger. Blaine rocked back and forth, making a slight shushing sound, and she fell asleep again instantly. “Now,” Kurt said quietly, settling down by Blaine's knees again, “how does she make you feel?”

Blaine's chest swelled, a smile creeping onto his lips as his eyes watched Lucy's sleeping figure. “Like I'd lasso the moon and the stars if she asked.”

Kurt fought back a laugh. “Oh, she will, trust me. I figure you've got about four years before she demands them. I'd start working on a game plan.”

Blaine chuckled quietly but the smile left his face after a moment. He rocked back and forth silently, Kurt's hands moving in time with the motion as they rested on his knees. “What if I lose her?” he asked quietly. “ _What if I lose you?_ ” he whispered.

Tears flooded Kurt's eyes. “I'm not going anywhere,” he reminded.

“You can't... You can't promise that,” Blaine choked out, shifting his arms to hold Lucy more comfortably.

“We're going to take care of Lucy,” Kurt insisted, his hands moving to Blaine's hips, rubbing in a circular motion. “We're going to do the best we can. Don't do this to yourself. Don't project your fears about Liz onto Lucy. They're two different people, Blaine. Lucy's life is just starting. I can't promise you that she won't end up like Liz, but you can't assume that she will, either.” Blaine drew in a breath, nodding, his eyes falling shut. Kurt gripped his hips a little harder. “And I promise you – Blaine, _look_ at me-” Blaine's eyes fluttered open, meeting Kurt's, an urgency behind them Kurt hadn't seen before. “I promise you that I'm going to do everything in my power to be here for you as long as I possibly can. I _love_ you.”

A breath left Blaine's chest harshly as a warmth flooded his eyes. He moved to stand and Kurt followed, watching as his husband placed their daughter back in her crib. He pulled a blanket over her tiny frame, and, once he was convinced that she would remain asleep, Blaine spun on his heel and crossed the room in two strides, his hands grabbing at Kurt's hips and pulling him close with such force that Kurt stumbled a little. Their lips collided, Kurt's hands clutching at Blaine's biceps a little desperately. “You _saved_ me,” Blaine ground out between kisses. “That's all you've ever done, since the day I met you.” Kurt whimpered a little into his mouth, fighting to keep his voice quiet. “I love you,” Blaine mumbled against Kurt's lips. “I _love_ you. _I love you, I love you, Iloveyou_.” Kurt moved his hands up to tangle in Blaine's hair, his breathing jagged. “And you make me want to be brave.”

Two words left Kurt's lips: “ _You are_.”


End file.
